Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. He jumped out of his own side once again and ran around the car to open hers in another theatrical display of chivalry. Along the floor ran an iron bar to which Jack's chain was attached, so that he could move along it from one end of the chamber to the other. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. Come on. For a few moments, Thames regarded the little girl through the half-opened door in silence.
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